


Falling

by bloodontheground



Category: Den of Thieves (2018)
Genre: F/M, Heavy Angst, Mention of Past Assault, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodontheground/pseuds/bloodontheground
Summary: Two weeks before his release, everything changed.
Relationships: Ray Merrimen/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> If you're triggered by sexual abuse, and the physical and emotional trauma that it leaves in its wake, please do not read.

Two weeks before his release, everything changed. The earth was pulled out from under you in the cruelest of tricks and everything you thought you knew, turned out to be a lie. Time stopped and migraines took the place of everything normal in your life. Your bed is a pittance as far as solace goes, and while part of you has half a mind to call the prison and plead your case for his early release, the more logical side of your brain tells you it’s pointless because it’s  _ over _ . 

You’ve covered all the mirrors in your small apartment, not wanting to see the proof of that night, afraid of looking in your own eyes lest shame and judgment come before the tears. You’ve had plenty of  _ that _ from the cops, the doctor, and your own so-called friends. The only person missing from the list is Ray, and you know that soon enough, his name will go on it, permanently scratched out of your life, leaving you completely alone. After all, what man in his right mind would want damaged goods?

The day of his release, you’re there to meet him, wearing more makeup than usual, your oversized hoodie out of place in the warm sun of summer. Anxiety makes it hard to breathe and even seeing him walking out twice the man he was going in doesn’t help calm you. He looks good, healthy and strong, and you know full well you’ve become the exact opposite. You can only hope the sun helps you in disguising the tell-tale signs because Ray’s eagle-eyed gaze is on you even from a few yards away. 

Both of you had agreed on taking things slow when he got out and today was meant to be a pickup and drop off only. One look at his eyes, however, and you know that won’t be all he’ll be wanting. It fills you with dread to even think about it and you do your best to shake the thought from your mind. A month ago, making love to Ray was all you could think about; now, it’s the last thing you want in the world. 

It’s only once he’s close enough that you realize his expression has changed into one of worry and you steel yourself for the onslaught. The fierce hug takes you by surprise and you flinch hard without meaning to. It doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Sorry, babe. Didn’t mean to spook you. Take your sunglasses off, lemme have a look at you. God, I missed you,” he smiles and it’s all you can do not to break down right then and there. Makeup can only hide so much, and with your orbital bone still healing from surgery, you know he’ll spot it in a heartbeat. Still, you’ve never been good at saying no to him and now is no exception. Taking a deep breath, you pull off your Ray Ban’s and look down at the pavement, not wanting to see the disgust in his gaze. 

“Babe. Look at me. Please.” His voice is so soft it makes tears well in your eyes before you can stop them, his gentleness towards you not having changed even after years behind bars. Biting the inside of your cheek hard, you do as asked, forced to watch as his expression falls. 

“I fell, hit the rail at the top of the stairs.” Your explanation comes at lightning speed, but it works. Ray only looks distrustful for a moment before he accepts your story, knowing you have no reason to lie to him. He cups your face and you bite down harder, willing yourself not to pull away. 

“Tough as nails, as always,” he grins, and when he goes in for a kiss, his face is immediately replaced by a flash of another man’s, one whose name you don’t even know. Your second flinch is enough to have Ray pull back, confusion clouding his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” You can’t find the words right away, so you just shake your head, managing to pull a funny face. “You smell like jail. C’mon, let’s get you home so you can wear clothes that haven’t been sitting in storage.” The joke falls flat, but he lets it go, following you to your car without another attempt at intimacy. 

The air hangs thick between you on the way to his house, and though you want to explain everything, you find your throat closing up each time you try. He tries for a kiss a second time once you pull into his driveway, and this time, you let him, though neither your mind nor body allows you to reciprocate. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, giving you a tender smile instead before he unfolds himself from the passenger seat. 

Four days go by before you get a series of text messages from him, each one more worried than the one before. 

Hey babe. You doing anything today? Miss you.

What’s going on? You’re never this quiet, even when I was in the pen. Talk to me.

Is there someone else? I know we talked about it, but I would’ve hoped you’d have told me. Just tell me what’s going on, please. 

Babe? Please answer, I’m worried about you. Call me. Please.

Each text brings a fresh batch of tears and more desperation than you’re ready for. Each one stays unanswered because there’s no way you can tell him over text. When sleep comes, it’s in the form of reliving the night over and over, each iteration worse than the one before it. The knock on your door causes you to wake with a scream that you instantly muffle with your own hand, terrified that it’s  _ him _ at the door. 

Grabbing the gun Ray had given you before he’d gone in, you tiptoe to the door, ready to shoot if the face in the peephole matches the one seared into your memory. You shake violently when you see Ray’s tall frame taking up the space at your doorstep, his expression one of fear; one you know all too well. Managing to unlock the door and stash the gun on the side table, you try to make a run for the couch--and the large blanket that can cover up your mangled body--but only get a few steps away before you hear the door close behind Ray. 

It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop, and you turn slowly, knowing this is well and truly the end. You don’t expect to see tears form quickly in Ray’s eyes, but the horror in his gaze is predictable. He’s the first--and last--person to see your battered body, and now that the proverbial shoe has dropped, you know there’s no going back to the way things were. 

“What the hell happened? This wasn’t just a fall,” his voice stammers, your eyes closing against the pain you feel radiating off him. At that moment, you bring the metaphorical axe down on your own neck, knowing that a clean break, no matter how painful to Ray, is the only option.

“Nothing you need to worry about. You were right. I should have told you. There is someone else. I love him very much, Ray. He was there for me during some difficult times when you couldn’t be. Please, do us both a favor and just go. Please.” You watch him brush his tears away with a rough palm, but when he looks at you, his gaze is hardened once more. 

“Okay. If that’s how you want this to go down, so be it. Okay, okay. Just know that if you ever need anything, I’ll be here. I’m sorry. I love you.” 

You aren’t ready for the searing pain that engulfs your chest as you watch him leave. All the breath leaves you and you scream in silence as you watch the door close behind him, knowing in your heart of hearts that it’ll be the last time you see him. 

Months pass and for him, each day is slower than the last. Ray calls off every heist he plans, his heart no longer in the work. Most of his nights are spent in a drunken stupor at his old haunt, his gaze glassy and empty even when he’s getting a lap dance from the hottest girl in the club. Over time, he garners up the courage to ask your friends about you. The update he gets from your former best friend, delivered in flippant nonchalance, breaks him. 

_ “Yeah, they had to take her away on a medical hold. She’d stopped eating and was going batshit. I told her to go into therapy to work out her issues with that night she thinks she got roofied, but she never did. Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah, some dude slipped something in her drink allegedly. She filed a rape report, but they never charged anyone, so I’m thinking it’s more she just...snapped.”  _

Ray vomits into his kitchen sink before breaking his knuckles on a wall. In a blind rage, he upends his kitchen, leaving it looking like it had been burgled before he grabs his keys and wallet, making a beeline for his car. It only takes a phone call to find out which psychiatric hospital you’ve been taken to and though he’s on probation, he puts the pedal to the floor, knowing he has to get to you. 

In the months since you’ve last seen him, you’ve wasted away, a shell of your former self both physically and emotionally. They force-feed you through a nasal tube, and you spend most of your days laying in bed, gazing emptily out at the world outside, knowing it’s no longer for you. You gave it up when you lied, gave it up when you let him walk out the door without knowing the truth. His military picture, long ago laminated to protect it, is the only item you have the strength to hold and you clutch it to your chest, hoping that maybe one day the flashes and the nightmares will give way to peace either in the form of death, or--as you wish for every night--in seeing him happy and going on with his life, without you. 

The knock on the door only makes you tremble a little, and you slowly turn over, expecting a nurse. Instead, you see Ray fall to his knees, his face one of pure agony. The wail he lets out is sure to be heard down the hall, and though you try, you’re too weak to sit up. You reach out instead, willing him to come to you and he does, sobbing and crawling until he reaches your bedside. 

“BABY!!!” He keens, gripping your hand tight enough to hurt, his own bruised black, making you wonder what happened and who told him in such a way as to cause rage and violence. 

It takes several minutes and a shot of something to calm him before the staff let him slip in next to you, his arms shaking as they engulf you. For the first time in what seems like years, you feel warm, and for the first time since that night, you welcome a man’s touch. Tears slip down your hollow cheeks and you lace your fingers through his, where they rest between your vanished breasts. 

“W-why didn’t you tell me?” His whisper holds tears that no amount of medication can quell, and you feel the same searing pain you felt the day he came over. 

“Because I thought you would leave me, that you wouldn’t believe me, like everyone else. Who would want to be with someone who was...Who was raped?” You force yourself to say the word, regretting it almost immediately when Ray begins to whimper and the bed begins to shake with his rattling breaths. 

“ _ I _ would want you. I’ve never  _ stopped _ wanting you, loving you. Please come back to m-me!” He begs. Tears flow freely after that, both of you letting out pain and anguish you’ve been carrying for months. 

The road ahead is long, but he never leaves your side, and when--after a year--you’re finally released, his is the first--and only--face you see. 


End file.
